On Your Own
by London Sparrow
Summary: 'Still hidden in the shadows, Clopin finally decided he'd had enough. "I'm sorry, chérie," he said softly, reaching into his pouch and withdrawing a small vial. "But you're on your own this time."'


**I deleted my story **_**An Unusual Predicament**_**, as I didn't think it really fit Clopin's personality. That being said, I decided to try my hand at a Hunchback of Notre Dame story again, and hopefully this one will work out better. In short, this is my interpretation of what Clopin did while Esmeralda was scolding Frollo at the Festival of Fools. Enjoy, and please leave a review! **

A grin blossomed across his dark face as he dropped the coins into his palm. They jingled; a sound that was positively music to his ears. He chuckled, closing his long fingers around the pieces of money and dropped them into the pouch at his waist.

"Ah, the rewards of a long day's work!" Clopin Trouillefou sighed contentedly, curling his fingers into fists as he reached his arms up in a stretch. He strained his muscles, feeling the burning sensation that was somehow pleasant spreading throughout his arms. His voice echoed around the empty puppet cart, but he was used to that. It didn't bother him; in fact, he liked his solitude. Considering how nearly every moment of every day was spent taking care of the gypsies in the Court of Miracles, Clopin enjoyed getting away once in a while, and his puppet cart was the perfect place to do so.

Feeling renewed after a good bout of stretching, Clopin walked over to a large wooden chest with a spring in his step. The bells on his jester's costume jingled softly as he lowered himself to sit on the floor. He reached over to open the chest, eyes twinkling.

Its contents were not surprising. Clopin stored his puppets inside this chest, yet carefully and gently, tucking them in as though they were his children – his wooden children that he had carved and painted himself. After the layers of carefully arrayed puppets were fragments of brightly coloured cloths, along with a sewing kit that Clopin had used many times. It was very useful in the situations where he urgently needed a quick repair job done on his tunic or hose.

Clopin gently pushed aside the puppets and cloths. There was a random cluster of brilliant feathers, and then – ah, there it was. A bottle of the finest wine Paris had to offer. He grasped the bottle by the neck and lifted it out, his mouth watering at the very sight of the label. Next he took out a small glass, before standing with a groan and making his way to the small table and stool he kept in the cart for such purposes.

Setting the glass on the table, he twisted the cork and pulled it out with a pop. He sniffed the bottle's contents, letting out a satisfied sigh before pouring a small amount into the glass. Clopin lifted the glass with a flourish, swirling the wine around gaily before lifting it to his mouth.

"_À Paris, notre terre fine - mai dieu la bénit_," he said quietly with a small smile before taking a sip. "Ah!" he cried upon swallowing. "The very best, indeed!"

A sudden commotion outside drew his attention to the window. He saw a flash of purple and white, and felt his heart begin to pound. _Esmeralda! _

Clopin raced for the door, abandoning his glass on the table. He stopped beside the cart, hidden safely in the shadows. Frowning, he leaned against the side of the cart and watched as Esmeralda slowly made her way up onto the stage where the hunchback kneeled, tied to a wheel that no doubt had been recently spinning. He was covered with eggs and tomatoes, Clopin noticed. A dark scowl formed on his face. This was just another reminder of why he hated the Parisians –

Esmeralda was speaking. Clopin strained his ears and found that she was apologizing to the hunchback. He found himself agreeing with her words. No, this wasn't supposed to happen. The Festival of Fools was supposed to be a fun, exciting gathering for all the people of Paris – as well as a chance for the gypsies to make fools of the Parisians without the risk of being dangled from the gallows.

The gypsy king watched with growing disinterest as Esmeralda cut the ropes and freed the poor bell ringer. He was just about to turn around and return to his wine when Esmeralda's sudden yell distracted him again.

"_Justice_!" Esmeralda had yelled. Clopin raised an eyebrow and glanced over, but his expression soon turned into that of alarm. Esmeralda snatched up the jester's hat and threw it – to Clopin's disbelief – over to where Judge Claude Frollo stood, pointing at her angrily. Clopin's black eyes widened even more. "Is she crazy?" he asked himself quietly.

Esmeralda wasn't done yet. "The only fool I see is _you_!" she yelled at Frollo. The judge's fury reached its breaking point. He ordered his guards to arrest the gypsy girl.

Still hidden in the shadows, Clopin finally decided he'd had enough. "I'm sorry, _chérie_," he said softly, reaching into his pouch and withdrawing a small vial. "But you're on your own this time."

Then he reached up as high as he could, and then brought his hand down again as hard as he was physically able to, slamming the vial down on the ground. A bright cloud of fuchsia erupted, obscuring the gypsy king from view.

When the smoke drifted away, Clopin was nowhere to be found.

**So, was that any better? In **_**An Unusual Predicament**_**, Clopin was way out of character, not to mention he was being chased by a pig. Can you picture that? The gypsy king being chased by a pig? Because I certainly can't. It was late at night, what can I say? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this, and please drop off a review before you go! **


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